Page 12 of Existential
“You called her out, didn’t you?”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” For all I know, Heather has an eating disorder that I’ve just exacerbated.
“She had it coming. Girl drives me darn crazy most of the time.”
“Why’s she here, then, if she just annoys everyone?” I think back to the comments I overheard Hooch make to Digits about her.
“Because that girl,” Beth says, thumbing in the direction she left, “is freaky-deaky in the bedroom.”
Eww. Totally didn’t need to know that. Totally makes me see Digits in a whole new light, too, if he’s tapped that. Again, eww.
Beth half skips, half walks over to the bar and pulls out a cold bottle of water. She knocks back the top third, and then gets situated on a stool while I stand against the wall wondering what the hell to do with myself now.
“Where you headed next?”
I look over at her, at how she sits with her legs crossed, and the effortless way she oozes sex appeal. No wonder the guys keep her around. If Heather’s good for the bedroom, I bet Beth is good for making the place look pretty.
“Hadn’t planned it, to be honest.”
“Stick around a while, then.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” She pats the stool next to her. “You can bunk in my room.”
“Uh, because Hooch made it pretty damn clear that he was barely tolerating me having a shower before I left.”
“Pfft. Don’t pay that bear no mind. He’s always grumpy and depressed these days.”
“Yeah, maybe so.” I take the offered seat. “But he’s also the boss, right?”
“To the guys, sure. He has ultimate say over us, too, but as long as we make ourselves useful he seems to not care what we get up to most of the time.”
“We?” I jam both hands under my thighs, not feeling like it’s my place to get too comfortable leaning on the bar.
“The property girls.”
Jesus. “You call yourselves property?”
“Of course. We belong to the club.”
“Are you free to leave?” What in the fresh hell is this?
“As long as we’re going for good. Like, you can’t just bounce in and out when you feel like it.” She takes another swig of her water. “But if you’re in, you’re in completely.”
“What does that mean?” I twitch a smile and dip my chin. “I’m new to your world, sorry.”
“Don’t worry.” Beth rests a hand on my forearm, ducking her head to give me a warm and seemingly genuine smile. “I didn’t know a thing about it when I first rolled up either.” She spins her stool, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Property girls belong to the club, in that if they get hurt or damaged, the club retaliates. They get looked after, but in exchange for that you’ve got to be willing to abide by the rules. No relationships outside of the club. Always come when you’re summoned. Put the men of the club first. Their needs are your needs. Serve them, make sure they’re looked after, and in return they’ll treat you right too.” She shrugs one shoulder, turning her water around in her hand. “In a nutshell, you should know what the men need before they do. A member shouldn’t have to ask you for anything; you should already be there beside him with it, or doing it.”
“You’re servants.” Borderline slaves by the sounds of things.
“Willingly, though.” She winks. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, darlin’. It may be your thing.”
If it’s anything directly opposed to being free, then I’m afraid poor Beth is totally wrong—it’s not my thing. Never would be. No way in hell am I letting anyone, especially a man, tell me what to do and when to do it ever again.
Come on, Digits. This drifter’s ready to go find where the road leads her next.